


And by Blue, I mean ...

by facetofcathy



Category: Leverage
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Character of Color, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-29
Updated: 2009-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-02 08:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facetofcathy/pseuds/facetofcathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the kink fic challenge at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/geteven_getfic/">Get Even, Get Fiction</a></p><p>Prompt: Alec/Eliot - arguing leads to kissing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	And by Blue, I mean ...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink fic challenge at [Get Even, Get Fiction](http://community.livejournal.com/geteven_getfic/)
> 
> Prompt: Alec/Eliot - arguing leads to kissing.

"She okay?" Eliot asked when Alec dropped onto the sofa and slumped into the cushions.

"Crying, sobbing, accusing me of stealing her money, but other than that, just great." Alec rubbed his temples, watched the football game silently playing on Eliot's television.

"So tell me again why we can't call Sophie?"

"Jesus man, she wanted to be with us. She asked us to hang out."

"That was when she was all laughing and happy and throwing herself at us," Eliot said.

"Yeah, next time I say anything as dumb as _I like this Parker_ just shoot me."

"No guns, I'll kick your ass though."

"Sure you will, and I know you know where it is," Hardison said and looked at him like he should know what that meant.

"Whatever, Hardison. I still say this is a job for Sophie."

"You saying you've never seen a woman cry before?" Alec stuck his eyebrows up and stared—rudely.

"Fuck off, I'm not some damn brute you know. I can be—"

"Sweet, gentle, gooey even? You a Harlequin model in your spare time, too?"

"Are you a damn Harlequin author?"

"I can be creative. I'm not all geek-boy left-brain you know."

Eliot heard Parker start making the noises that meant she was about to be sobbing and carrying on again. He took his turn checking on her. The high had been fun, she'd been all smiley and giggly, but the trip down was a nightmare.

"She's quiet," Alec said when he came back.

"Yeah, gave her all the change in my pocket. She's sorting it into piles and crooning at it."

"Crooning, man, that's—"

"Yeah, she's got an actual song all about how money's the only thing she can trust."

"Shit," Alec said and sunk further into the cushions. His spine was a curve, and his legs were sprawled out so far his feet cleared the far side of the coffee table.

"How the hell do you sit like that?" Eliot said and headed for the kitchen. He got a beer and a bag of chips. He didn't bother offering Hardison a beer, he knew what the answer would be.

"You're my mother now, Eliot? Gonna make me clean my room later?"

"You can clean my damn truck," Eliot said and threw the chips at Hardison, who snatched them out of the air.

"Your truck is fine."

"My truck smells blue."

"Smells blue?" Hardison said, voice climbing. "You get into the pills too?"

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you know what I mean," Eliot said, even though he wasn't entirely sure himself, "and you're going to clean it up."

"You have bazillions of dollars, you can afford to get it detailed. Hell man, you can get it detailed by naked twins if you want."

Eliot ignored the glazed look on Hardison's face. "Principle of the thing. You spilled blue stuff in my truck, you clean my truck. And while were on the damn subject, have you given any thought to what the artificial colours in that crap are doing to your insides, man?"

"Aw, baby, didn't know you cared."

"Shut up, Hardison. Just because you're still a kid, doesn't mean you can go stuffing yourself full of that crap without paying for it some day."

"You do sound just like my Nana, only she was older, blacker and tougher than you, but still. Besides, the orange soda cancels it out."

"The orange soda cancels it out? What does that even mean?"

"Oh, I think you know what I mean," Hardison said, sounding like the big mocking idiot that he was.

"I do not—fuck off Hardison." God, he could smirk professionally. Someone needed to wipe that off his face for him.

"You know if I was a Freudian … "

"What?" Eliot glared at him, and Hardison smiled, not his smirk, his little smug, I'm smarter than you smile. He'd seen it about a million times today. The entire day had been one big Alec-shaped annoyance. "Do you work at being a jerk? Because, I've got to tell you, you are very gifted."

"With you, Eliot, it all just comes naturally."

"Yeah like getting yourself into trouble?"

"What?"

"Like almost getting blown up?" Eliot said, trying not to shout. "Like getting in fights with gang-bangers?"

"Yeah, I got up this morning and said, Alec, what your life needs is more explosives and organized crime. Besides, I did fine."

"Yeah, maybe," Eliot said, not bothering to mention how that wasn't the point.

"Was that a compliment? Did the great Eliot Spencer, known cranky pants, actually say something positive?"

"I can take it back," Eliot said in his best menacing tone, and Hardison just made another mocking face at him. Did the man have no sense of self-preservation at all?

"No take backs," he said and plucked the chip bag out of Eliot's hands.

"How has your ass not been handed to you by now?"

"Again with the ass references, something you want to tell me?"

"Will you shut the fuck up for five seconds? You can't go around poking the bear with a stick, or one day you're going to get mauled."

"What if it's a really long stick?" Alec said, frowning in mock seriousness.

"I'm being serious, Hardison," Eliot said and snatched the chips back.

"No, you're being weird, over dramatic and weird, but I'm getting used to it."

"Everything's a joke to you," Eliot said, squirming out of the clutch of the sofa to sit upright. He slammed his beer down on the coffee table and tossed the chips after. "You want in this business, you want to be more than the geek in the van doing whatever the hell it is you do, you have to stop treating everything like a joke."

"Dude, chill."

"I don't think I want to."

"Yeah," Alec smirked at him again. "You want to stay all hot and bothered?"

Some last little thread of control, the thing that had started unravelling when Alec was sitting on a time bomb, snapped clean in two. "I might, Hardison, I just might," he said and he leaned closer.

"Um, what are you doing, Eliot?"

"I'm gonna wipe that smirk right off your face."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

Eliot closed the last of the distance between them and slapped his palm against Alec's face. He pulled, and Alec moved forward, laughter gone out of his eyes and he was quiet for once. Eliot thrust his thumb between those smirky lips and Alec opened for him, and Eliot felt this surge of predatory power, this urge to take Alec and mess him up, mark him up, make him pay attention.

Alec opened his mouth and made a noise that sounded like yes please, and he sucked Eliot's thumb into his mouth and—bit down hard.

Eliot cursed and snatched his thumb back, and Alec was laughing again, a low rumble of heated amusement. "Careful where you poke that, Eliot," he said, and he moved forward, a steady press of his body, all his height and weight behind it, and he had Eliot's head in both his hands, fingers digging into Eliot's hair. "I might get ideas."

Eliot was damn near flat on the sofa, legs trailing off and pinned under Hardison's. He could throw him off, he could twist free, he could likely even do it without hurting him, but he didn't want to disturb Parker. Alec kissed him, softly and slowly and gently, lips and tongue barely brushing against Eliot's. Eliot twisted and freed one leg, and he got his hands on Alec's shoulders, a bruising almost brutal grip, that he used to pull Alec closer while he wrapped his leg around Alec's hips.

Alec made a noise of approval, and let go of Eliot's hair, dropping his elbows to the sofa arm, and they were pressed close chest to knee, Alec holding him down with all his weight. Alec had left soft and gentle far behind, roared right past tentative and unsure, and now he was devouring Eliot, taking his mouth with hungry thrusts of his tongue and sharp nips of teeth.

Eliot held on because sometimes you just had to roll with the punches. He could turn the tables any time he wanted to, he just didn't want to.

/$\$/$\

Parker woke, slowly, noticing first the ache that seemed to infuse her body. Not the good kind of ache that meant she'd spent the day hanging from a wire, or the other good kind of ache that meant she'd found someone to play with, but a dull feeling of weakness that made her want to burrow under the covers and stay until the world righted itself.

Something dug into her palm, and she opened her hand and peered at a clutch of coins, and she remembered—the drugs, the high and then the spiralling trip down that wasn't anything like zipping down a wire. She remembered other things as well—crying and sobbing and losing control, Hardison apologizing and Eliot giving her the coins.

When she had been high, so high she could fly without the wire, she had clutched at them both, and she'd felt such kinship for them, but it hadn't lasted; it had all been an illusion of the drugs. But Eliot had given her the coins, and she had felt it again, and she had not been high then, not at all—she had fallen to Earth and been smashed into tiny pieces then.

She tucked the coins away in her pocket and walked silently out of the bedroom; she would leave without them seeing her if she could. She found them on the sofa, twisted together like strands of rope—Eliot on his back with his hand flung over his head and the other arm wound around Alec, Alec draped over Eliot, legs tangled together and only one arm visible. She smiled at them, and felt a little echo again of the feeling that they were all three, improbably, the same sort of creature.

She drew out the coins from her pocket and selected one shiny penny, and she set it in the palm of Eliot's hand. He would find when he woke, and maybe he would know what it meant. She slipped out of Eliot's apartment and patted her pocket while she waited for the elevator. She wondered if they would notice their missing watches as soon as they woke or if they would be distracted by other things.


End file.
